Eleven Past Twelve
by c1araoswa1d
Summary: Tumblr Whouffle Prompt: After Clara helps 12 manage the TARDIS she gets dropped back home and collapses from exhaustion; After agreeing to a truce with his enemies, 11 decides to check up on what happened to Clara after Christmas day and she finds herself face to face with the man she'd just lost.


Holding onto the console, Clara shouted when something burst at her right and she locked eyes with the older man across from her, the one looking panicked and a little bit restless. He'd assumed when she rushed forward to help him fly the Tardis that she knew – she knew implicitly – how to, and part of her did. Part of her knew exactly what button to push and which knob to twist and what wheel to turn to make the contraption swirl through the vortex to get them home, but it was a part that had tucked itself into the back of her mind, reeling from what she'd just witnessed.

"I thought you said you could fly this," he barked.

"Oh, shut up, I'm doing the best I can!" She called back

Was this their new relationship? Was this his new voice? His new way of treating her? His new him? Clara slammed the palm of her hand onto a blinking red button and she felt the coolness of extinguishing vapors, putting out the flames just behind her. She tugged on the brakes then, knowing what she was doing was going to break her heart, but knowing it had to be done, and when the silence fell, she gripped the console to keep from falling.

The vworp vworp was missing – _that beautiful sound of hope_ – but the Tardis had stabilized enough for her to wrap her head around the controls again. In the absence of sound she was able to steer her, all the while hearing his voice in her mind – her mind now empty enough to hear it – telling her just what to do.

_ "Ah, you don't want to touch that one. Anti-grav, we'll be floating about the Tardis as she tumbles through space. Been there, done that, how we got to Trenzalore in the first place? Remember?"_

Clara maneuvered the machine, sniffling loudly and releasing a loud sob when she realizes she's flying it by herself. The man across from her is simply holding on, staring. She wished he'd stop staring. She shifts to her right, hiding herself from those steely eyes as she turns a wheel to select a time and she thinks it – go home. She knows that the Tardis is psychic and she knows that she's still connected to her.

_ Hold tight._

With a nod, she braces herself for the dip, hears the Doctor shout out, "Are we still crashing? Aren't we supposed to avoid crashing? I'd really rather not crash."

"Oh, shut up!" Clara repeats, pinching her eyes shut.

She can feel him at her side and when the Tardis tumbles, she can feel his arm bend around her waist and for a moment, with her eyes closed, she smiles because he was protecting her. Worried about crashing, this new man was still her Doctor, still trying to keep her safe in the only way he knew how and suddenly, she heard him gasp, reaching out and beginning to work at the buttons with skillful hands. Clara let her eyelids slip up and she watched the determination that overtook his features.

He met her eyes and somehow the fierceness had melted away. Now he was looking at her with a twinge of something she recognized because suddenly, it was as if he recognized her. "I'll get you home, Clara," he told her firmly.

The Tardis landed with a loud bang and Clara ducked her head, fingers gripping the metal sides of the center console, and she pressed her lips together tightly. She was home and he was gone. The Doctor was nearing her again, slowly, and she felt his hand hovering just above hers and without thinking, she reached for it, pushing off the console and falling against him. Burying her face in his chest, she inhaled deeply, still smelling the man she'd left behind – the man who'd left her behind.

To keep her safe.

"I'm sorry, Clara," he whispered, Scottish accent hitting her ears like glass.

She shifted back and tried to smile up at him. Her hand came up to cup his cheek and she watched him grin, awkward and toothy and something about it was endearing, but she slipped away, feeling her heart breaking because it wasn't him. He wasn't her Doctor – or at least he wasn't yet. She nodded slowly and then made her way to the door, stopping when he made a noise of protest.

Turning, she looked to him, one hand raised slightly, the other undoing the button at his collar, "Wednesday, right? We'll meet on Wednesday," he looked away, "Some Wednesday."

Clara nodded, but she remained silent, stepping back out of the Tardis and onto the grass of the field behind her flat and she stumbled along, turning when the wind picked up and crying at the quiet dissolve behind her. Could she see him the next Wednesday, knowing everything that had happened? She kicked at a red paper crown that had settled itself into the grass and she passed a sad look at the green one that had fallen off her head earlier in the day.

Upstairs her father having a quiet chat with Linda and her gran, the three turning to look at her as she entered, red-eyed and disheveled and when he stood, she fell against him with a sob. What could she tell him that would explain away that day? Her constant disappearing and re-appearing in different states of distress. Clara chose not to say a word as he lead her to her room, hand absently stroking her forehead as he frowned and sucked his teeth.

"Knew we should have cut it short earlier – how does a bloke break up with his girlfriend on Christmas?"

She laughed absently and muttered weakly, "He changed."

Clara dropped onto her bed and her father knelt in front of her, the back of his hand against her cheeks before he grasped her hands in his, "You're burning up, Clara – are you feeling alright?"

Nodding, she told him quietly, "Maybe I should lie down a bit."

In truth, she felt like she was on fire. Like she could sleep until she melted away until nothing was left. As her father tilted her slightly, laying her gently against her pillow and then moved out to get a throw off her couch, Clara cried because it was what she wanted. Turn into a puddle and dry up into cold winter night because every time her eyes closed, she saw that last little grin as his skin glowed.

She woke to a familiar sound and she frowned because he'd parked the Tardis in her living room, she was sure of it. Clara gripped the throw to her chin and felt her eyes warm anew because that new man would come sauntering in any second now and he'd act like nothing had happened. For him it was a change, a change he was used to – had done it now thirteen times? Fourteen? Clara wasn't sure anymore. She sniffled and brought her knees up into her stomach and when she felt his hand at her waist, she released a small uncomfortable moan.

"Clara?"

Her eyes blink open at the sound of his voice. Her Doctor's voice. But she doesn't have the energy to sit up and greet him. She looked up into his face, wide grin easy on her face as she took him in, watching the green eyes that danced over her features and the small smile that pulled at his mouth. He's still old, the way he looked when she'd first gone back, and she slips a hand out to take his, bringing it to her lips to kiss.

"Clara," he repeated, concern wrecking him as the fingers of his other hand curl around her face, testing her temperature before he began, "I should get you a doctor, your fever is…"

She stopped him from standing, holding tight to his hand and uttering a quick, "Don't go."

"Clara, you need a doctor," he warned.

"You are my Doctor."

Her chuckle is instant and she sits up weakly, allowing him to steady her until she falls into him, dropping her head onto his shoulder and wrapping her arms around him. Clara can feel his hand stroking through her hair and he gave her back a rub, kissing her forehead and asking her softly, "Are you alright?"

"You came back," she whispered.

With a laugh, he nodded, "Of course I came back; why wouldn't I come back for you?"

Clara frowned and she looked up at him, taking in the age and knowing this had to come before her second return. Before Tasha Lem picked her up and brought her back so she could say goodbye. Before she watched him change in the blink of an eye. "Why are you here? You should be back there, fighting."

He nodded, slowly, but his hand came up to brush the long bangs from her forehead and he admitted, "Well, you weren't supposed to wake up and see me."

"I always see you," she breathed. "Always."

The Doctor laughed because the truth was almost too painful to think about and Clara understood he was thinking about her scattered through his time stream. He was thinking about every version of her he'd missed who'd given up her life to save him. Clara smiled and he laid her back down, still looking uneasy as he tested her skin again with an aging palm and Clara didn't have the heart to explain everything that had happened. That she was still in shock from it all. That somewhere inside of her, her heart was broken because she knew he would leave soon; he would go back to Trenzalore – back to Christmas; and he would age to the point of death.

He would sleep.

Leaning forward, he kissed her lightly and when he inched back, he whispered, "My Clara," and then he raised his eyebrows and nodded, "Always my Clara."

She cried then, because maybe she was. Maybe that other man now testing out his knowledge of his Tardis understood that. Maybe it was like the Sonic – she was some calculation that had begun running during the Eleventh's time and was still running through the Twelfth's and she just had to accept that despite his face, he was the same man underneath. The same memories and the same…

"I love you," Clara told him then. The words came out on a weak breath, but she needed them to come out, needed him to know. She hadn't gotten the chance to tell him before, but because of, she smiled, the wibbly wobbly, she could tell him now.

He stroked her forehead with his thumb and he kissed her again gently. "My impossible girl."

"Please, don't go back," she pleaded.

There was a hint of understanding in his eyes and he moved into her again, his lips brushing her cheek before whispering in her ear, "Get some rest, I'll see you on Wednesday," and he shifted away, standing with a light sniffle before turning away from her, hands held tightly at his chest. Clara opened her mouth to protest, but her vision blurred and as she fell unconscious, she heard the Tardis drifting back into the vortex, taking him back to his end.


End file.
